


Spinning an End

by beforeyouspeak, Greyella



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Incest, Smut, gorgeous language, lots of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 08:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13209672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beforeyouspeak/pseuds/beforeyouspeak, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greyella/pseuds/Greyella
Summary: Bella is more than miffed, watching Cissa subjugate herself to Severus. After the events at Spinner’s End, the Black sisters make their way through muggle London. A dynamic shift occurs whilst evading muggles. Tension leads to walls and thralls. Cissatrix central. Mature 18+ audiences only.





	Spinning an End

**Author's Note:**

> Beforeyouspeak: I doubt it will surprise many of you that I believe in magic, even if it doesn’t always involve wands. I can’t imagine any greater magic than writing with the best writer you know, who happens to be your very best friend. The way GE weaves words caught my imagination from the first time I found her. And frankly, I could never have created something so beautiful without her. I hope you all enjoy this unique mix of my straight forward plot and sassy dialogue with the magic of her words. GE, the only greater honor than writing with you is the place I have in your life. 
> 
> GE: I am never as prolific as hoped and rarely as focused as desired. But collaborations with Beforeyouspeak are always of the anam cara variety, filled with a crazy fun approach to prose, even if a lengthy fruition (usually my fault). She keeps my words honest and challenged, anchored and strong. Without her, this piece would not be balanced, raw, or posted at all. She reminds me not to over-edit without ever reminding me. She reminds me that good stories can be created even if not condoned. There isn’t a soul on earth I’d rather share the worst and best of my thoughts with. Let alone write them down. Darling, sweet New Year wishes to you and all that you love. I’m honored by your company and compathy in our years, and the ones still yet to come.

“Cissy, he can’t be trusted.”

They trudged out of Spinner’s End. The rain was unrelenting as was Bella’s new mantra. It washed away any hue the city might have retained. The puddles were drab and derelict. They warped further as boots splashed, spritzing onto the sidewalk. The plentiful cracks ate the dregs up and angry Bellatrix was a power-walk unchained.

Narcissa followed willingly, as she always did. But the air had changed, charged between them. The brunette led them in ways unlike before, which said a lot, given that the mood spectrum of the eldest Black sister was broadly unpredictable. Away was good. Anywhere to escape the dire situation in which her son now swam and tread poorly. Bystanders thought they wandered without path; Bella’s route was circumlocutious and Narcissa’s stumbles were many. But Bellatrix caught her every time, despite the hisses.

“Cissy, do try and keep up,” Bella snapped more than questioned. “Any effort by mud in our direction would be detestable.”

The blonde cringed at the thought...or was it at the familiar hiss? Harsh fingers intertwined with hers and pulled her along, keeping her to that mad pace. Narcissa clung back, a delicate embrace. The two sprinted for some unknown and Bellatrix revelled in the wild exigency. It was her element. She shared it.

Knots twisted like the wind, forming low in Cissa’s gut.

The buildings passed fast, the flash of a cheshire smirk reflected in every pane. Narcissa knew better than to question their destination. No sense asking what would make itself known. Cissa trusted the leader; her sister made no mistakes. There was always a purpose, even if a lack of mercy. This made Bellatrix the most terrifying of creatures because her villainy was reasoned. Action in vain was not a concept with which Bella was familiar. And there was nothing Bellatrix could take from Narcissa that wouldn’t be freely offered...even without reason. These times and Cissa wondered if she’d been born solely for her sister’s purpose.

They ran, ensconcing themselves farther into muggle London.

Another time and this would have prompted Cissa aghast, but Bella had her in hand, her heart with it. Perhaps it was breath that quickened. Or perhaps the push came first and then her breath. Either way, Bella shoved Narcissa into an alleyway between two edifices, tall and endless in the sky fog. Cissa’s back hit the wall none-too-gently, as Bellatrix pushed them flush against the wet brick. Narcissa yelped in surprise, skinning her knuckles. There wasn’t much room and the blonde blushed when Bella pressed too close. She had trouble canning her vocal response, and searched that angled face for clues, any iota of anything to explain their proximity. Not to mention their general location. But Bella was in war-mode and turned to the street. Her breath bedded on Cissa’s cheek and prompted speech.

“Bel--”

The lieutenant’s clever hand clapped over Narcissa’s mouth and staunched her in true sibling fashion. Faint language made to Cissa’s ears, in that odd way Bellatrix was signature -- not quite a whisper, not quite a song. Unintelligible really, save for those who spoke her fluently.

“Shush! Thought I saw him, the slithering skunk he is.” Her words slipped easily into city sounds.

The backfire down the street.

The squelching of muggle shoes.

Cissa mumbled retort, hot against Bella’s hand. The sentiment however was lost, either in off-trail or muffle. Annoyed, but Bella relented slightly, her fingers still hovered over the blonde’s breath, warning against sound. Their whispers dressed them like scarves, a practice they’d perfected as children. Narcissa took note and blended into the colorless scene, spreading mortar.

“I said, you’re paranoid. We doubled back. Thrice. I think we can safely assume that we’ve lost Severus,” Cissa sassed. “Especially since he wasn’t tailing us in the damned first place...the deal was already sealed.” Wry notes in the dim.

Insubordination and Bella gripped fervor on her neck.  
  
“And you’re far too trusting of the bat-git. He’s a spy, Cissy. And I highly doubt breasts are going to sway him further. Despite your attempts,” Bellatrix implied, sourly.

Fury rose in the flower and the blonde hated that her sister insisted on rubbing salt in open wounds. And at the present, anything concerning Draco was wounded.

“What would you have me do, Bellatrix? I don’t have your kind of weapons.”

“What, deary?” A faint snort. “You don’t think my breasts are dangerous?”

Narcissa didn’t touch that one.

“Any protection at that infernal school is better than none. He’s my child, you bloody bint. And you’ve saddled him with murder.” Fury of the mother was unforgiving and popped like angry kernels.

Bella knew it was fright under the butter. Nonetheless, she wouldn’t tolerate such projection. She sizzled back in kind, afront finding her cheekbones, sharper than the brick.

“I’d have you trust me to protect him. And you.” Cissa swore she heard a muttered, “With or without cleavage benefits.”

“I do trust y--”

Bella’s hand dropped back to Cissa’s mouth. The other protected across her body, waging war and safety against Narcissa’s hip. A black spot billowed on the street and Cissy followed Bellatrix to silence. The lieutenant played sentry and the air held its lungs. The witch pushed through Narcissa’s mind anyway.

‘Stay girl, hush as the dead. We can argue later, deary, when we’re alive.’

Cissa was resigned to marry the cold wall, hard and unkind on her back. Bellatrix was thorough and prized efficiency over gentility; their slickers saved them from downpour, but shivers spiked the blonde’s spine. Casing the street, Bella shifted, her dampened curls sweeping Cissa’s neck. The shivers grew. Taking it for cold again, the dark witch cast a spell and warmed their niche. The heat was too lethargic, too congenital. Too liable. It muddled Cissa’s thoughts and turned on instincts. Narcissa knew her sister surveyed the street, seeking any blip of possible danger. As the heat begat acedia, she left vigilance to Bella. Danger brewed in their surprise alcove, biding its time in Bella’s black curls and their parkas. The blonde was crafty, not bold by nature. Maybe the calidity was to blame, but she didn’t realize her unplanned lips. That is until Bella moved underneath them, chuckling. Cissa’s mouth idled on Bella’s neck too long to be considered an accident or due to their close quarters. Though her cheeks flushed hot, Narcissa’s mouth remained, tasting the wet skin.

Her progress was halted by a low and not unpleasant grumble.

“Darling, not here. At least choose a place I can ward.” Still cognizant of outside peril, the lieutenant’s words reprimanded, but her tone silked.

They didn’t speak to the novelty and Cissa reverted.

“It’s your fault we’re in muggle London. A dozen other dry options and you pick here. Even for you that’s aberrant.” Her sentence finished soft, susurrant on Bella’s bared neck. Transfixed by the pretty column, Cissa dusted fingerprints on her whisper path.

Bella rolled into the touch and graced the gift with gumption.  
  
“I think safe and dry are the least of your intentions,” Bellatrix snarked. She palmed the blonde’s crown, the gold rich on her skin, even in the dim alley. Bella sealed them in a strange interlace, her mouth contemplating Cissa’s ear and the tender skin beneath.

Narcissa thanked the wall with trembles. Bella’s teeth were defiant with unsisterly nips. Safety was the last thing on her mind. And this was, in fact, unsafe. Insane. Perhaps Cissa was seeking comfort, but she doubted. The conversation with Severus had been...odd. And Bella’s reaction had been both petty and subdued. But slight seconds in that room had opened new thoughts. Or sleeping ones. (Bella’s chin on her shoulder, those arms snaking around waist. She’d forgotten to breathe. Forgotten her son. There was only that hand, caressing at her side. It spoke of wait. Jealousy. And later.) This was the penultimate ingredient to some potion they’d been brewing for years. Now Cissa waited for the spring, that final sprig dropped into hissing pot. But patience was a virtue that she abhorred. Unexpectedly, it was volatile Bella who had perfected the arachnidian arts. Calculating. Infuriatingly patient before the pounce.   
  
“Trust you said. And how far does your trust extend tonight, Narcissa?”

Oh, it was rare thing for the dark witch to full-name her. Often this was prompted by anger, but now (and how), it was seduction and the best of liquor cabinets. In such close quarters, the blonde couldn’t find reason, not enough to consider implications or Bella’s oblique meaning.

“However far it must,” Cissa murmured a moment of bravery. And though it was Narcissa who drew Bella’s earlobe into mouth, it was Narcissa that whimpered.

That sprig dangled above cauldron. Bella purred and Cissa felt it through her chest and teeth. It settled in shaky ways and tasted of smoke and corset lace. Their lips were too close and Bella took liberty, her hands awfully familiar in blonde hair. Tugging tangles wonderfully.

“Make no mistake. If we go now, you’ll be mine. I’ll accept nothing less than your absolute.”

This clear change of dynamic was veiled. It should have confused, the ease with which the shift had come. It didn’t. And daring hadn’t left Cissa.

“I’m less focused on the going. It’s the coming that will make it absolute.” Sex magic bound magicfolk in ways the wizarding world had yet to fully unravel. Not that it happened every time. But Cissa was certain, there would be magic with Bella.

Black locked with blue, throwing flames. Bellatrix slinked against her, their bodies aligned too well in the alley and fitting curve to curve. Cissa’s shudder was too coherent. Too soft to be mistaken for anything but controlled lust.

“Mine then?” Bella’s lips hovered, skimming. Her fingers tracing the delicacy of wrists.

“As if there was question of that,” Cissa glibbed. Sarcasm hid the shades of her sincerity.

Coal eyes searched her. Confirmed. Bella’s arms closed tight, the possession made clear. The dark witch took them, the apparition flawless and without sound. When their feet hit solid again, Cissa dared her eyes open, but made no move to break the embrace, her nose on neck. Their field of vision filled with fog. In the swirls, they lingered on what felt like highland -- blonde tucked into black, the darker witch stable and supple.

“Bella, where in blazes are we?” Narcissa said, childlike against the warmth of skin.

“Somewhere safe Scotland. And very much alone.” The words were brisk, opposed to her hand, which trailed slow heat on Cissa’s hips. “No need to worry about screaming.”

The dark witch led them to a cozy looking cottage. Cissa marveled at its storybook quality and amused at the purple trim. Their wacky Aunt Lucretia would have appreciated the flagrant disregard of prim decoration. Approaching the structure, her regal sister looked out of place. But the wards were clearly set for Bellatrix, as they unscrambled on her command. She followed the dark witch over threshold and fingered the worn woodjam as they pass to sanctuary. Inside was homey and entirely out of character for Bellatrix. Cissa had come to associate habitual mess with her domestically disinclined sister. Though the colors couldn’t be described as bright and cheery, it was welcoming and clean. Life took place within these walls. The blonde took on bemusement and hid it poorly. Bellatrix clomped her boots by the door before unabashedly kicking them off. The scattered down the entry hall.

“It is mine, Cissy,” she snapped. “I have learned to pick up after myself.”

The blonde jerked, scowling, realizing the witch was in her mind.

“Do you mind!?” Benign or not, Narcissa scoffed at the violated principle.

“Not in the slightest.” Bella shook her hair, water drops flying and landing safely on floor.

In a fit of immaturity, Cissa stalked through the rugged entryway, deliberately tracking mud onto the soft wood of the foyer. She tried not to feel bad for the slats. Lazily akimbo, Bellatrix’s eyes flickered to her floor, muddied and wet, and rose back to her fuming sister. Her tongue was positively lascivious.

“Oh but Cissy, filth among kin is forgiven.” Bella chuckled and nodded toward Cissa’s soaked outerwear. “And underneath, I suspect filthy, as well.”

Narcissa had the good grace to blush. The witch owned the house after all. And with swagger, Bella certainly owned the ground, muddy or not. Warily, Cissa watched as the woman made to be hospitable. Made to unfasten the catch of her guest’s cloak. Annoyed at being outdone, the blonde was petty. Gestures royal, she dismissively blocked Bella’s hands. Waved them off and spouted feh.   
  
“Now, now,” Bellatrix purred, “and here I thought you trusted me. Or did you misspeak?” She walked the blonde backwards, prowling. Until once again, her witch pressed back against the wall. Nimbly, Bellatrix peeled off Narcissa’s soaked outerwear and lingered at graceful curves.

“I do and I didn’t,” Cissa gasped, as lips pressed beneath her jaw. But the fight in her remained, unwilling to go easily. Perhaps rightly so; Bellatrix was never one for docile.

“I know,” those red lips intoned, brushing gently against pink before descending fully.  
  
Bella was hot, consuming. And Cissa returned it over and again, whimpering lost years and all that sorrow. The blonde inhaled the pretty bonfire and let it burn her veins. It left her with an awful thirst that churned the soul. A natural break and Bella’s lips drew back. Though admittedly, Cissa did everything to follow them, finding that Bella’s mouth quenched some unnamable emotion. For short moments, Bellatrix let her, if only to assuage the sudden distress. Very clear on Narcissa’s plight, Bella soothed her cheekbones. Her brow. Bellatrix traced constellations, celestial novas...writing answers to questions they’d never asked themselves. The years they hadn’t studied. Bellatrix always did have strange methods of amelioration, this situation no different. The turn of events had been too quick and Narcissa assumed the ending would be similar, this a one time endeavor. Bella’s mouth left her and her fear whimpered aloud, her cords cracking. Cissa hated herself for such weakness. She smashed her eyelids shut, the smallest of shakes betraying the quake inside.

Hands didn’t withdraw, but the lieutenant leaned back, observing. Cissa’s head lolled into wall, her body braced for rejection. Her flaxen locks were wild, beautifully so, and delicate lids papered her face. Beneath, Bella knew they housed the sea and salted irises. Her perusal was careful, tender in ways many thought lost to her. But language was not for moments like these; speech never spilled properly between them anyway. Cissa was too proud and prim and Bellatrix was more a...physical being. It was a wordless time, so she spoke a different language.

Bella fingered gold; Cissa’s hair was tawny and frizzed from the humidity. The lieutenant thought her sister a marvelous thing when mussed, an unkempt pulchritude. She laid possession on Cissa’s pulsepoint, tasting the drizzle caught from the weather. The hollow beneath her tongue beat frantically as she found gentle hips and memorized their contours. Bellatrix hand’s sailed north, up curves, to shoulders. South to trembling fingers. She prized the tiny breaths, quick in her airspace, the ones Cissa controlled and thought sounded normal. Fingers laced, Bellatrix pinned their weave against wall. Firmly. Bella chuckled, because there...that distinct hitch in Cissa’s breath was indicative. The witch was hers for taking. She pushed their lengths together and had great fun in kicking apart Narcissa’s feet. Kissed her jaw. Proof for Cissa that rejection would never come.   
  
Lips traced Cissa’s temple, sable curls brushing her face. Her neck. An ear. It was less kiss and more so mapping. Though wordless, the blonde knew this was Bella’s heart.

“Narcissa.”

Her name uttered with such unexpected reverence that Cissa barely braved breath, fearing her lungs, as if one wrong draw would starve off this stolen ship.

Those eyes were still shut and this wouldn’t do. Bella’s leg pushed between Cissa’s, clear and solid to center. All the skirts in the world couldn’t keep out the heat. Blue eyes shot open, cannons firing and glassy with lava. A firm hand pulled her head sideways, exposing neck. Less than tenderly, teeth pierced the soft flesh and raised bruise as flag. Bella bit ownership and claimed.

Marked, Narcissa hissed. That leg persisted, pushed into her, and the only option was to let it. The wall behind her had no give and so she rocked. Off balance, Cissa pitching forward, finding grip on Bella’s waist. If anything, this erased what little space had lived between them. Narcissa’s weight shifted into a clear straddle and the blonde thought the slightest of breaths escaped from her sister’s lips. She was rather appalled, as her hips moved of their own accord, reaching and eagerly preaching. In last ditch effort to curtail, the blonde shifted away, bricks seemingly safer. Teeth admonished her shoulder, warning. Bellatrix wouldn’t take anything but wanton, none of this proper decorum shit that her socialite was so fond of.

“And here I thought I’d taught you how to ride years ago.” Bella was a murmur in Cissa’s ear.

Narcissa was half horrified, half aroused to recall their teenage years, riding bareback. Lithe Bella always wrapped around her from behind when they road the moors. Their hips rolling in flushed-face sync, cantering in the undergrowth. The memory was enough and Cissa answered by accident, muscle memory, rocking and rocking. Trembling, she fell into Bella’s embrace, letting the witch’s thigh torture them properly. Frantically, the blonde ruched up her own skirt, finding petticoat barriers far too cumbersome. She needed closer, even with Bella’s dress in the way. A consuming kiss was her reward. Bella’s hand joined Cissa’s hip, setting pace, and teaching once again. The other found Cissa’s jaw and held blue eyes to her.

“I like you like this,” Bellatrix said. “Filthy. Wanton. Desperate.” The last word trailed off into hiss, caressing body and psyche.

“I am not desperate,” the blonde said automatically, self-respect poured into the rebuke.

Abruptly, all movement ceased.

“You are.” The growl was none too kind. Only sincere.

Loss loss loss and Cissa trembled agony, the smallest of keens from her. A breathy thing really. In the end, she was a lady. Such sounds had to be earned. It didn’t stop her from aching, nor did it curb the “B-bella…” which broke her mouth to whisper. Teeth bit at her bottom lip and left her light-headed.

Without a moment for adjustment, she was roughly displaced from the wall (manhandled really) into the small room jutting off from the entryway foyer. The sitting area was warm and could only belong to a formal parlor, complete with tea table. Cissa raised her eyebrow, her surprise at the class written all over her face.

Bella snapped.  
  
“Do you think you’re the only Black? I may not be the poster child of dinner parties, but I was Black far before you.”

“Agreed,” Cissa drawled, annoyed at several things. “But you’re also a touch more low--”

“I swear on the head of your moronic son,” Bella hissed in her face, their hands still linked. “If you finish that thought, I’ll chop it off. Dull ax and all. He’s your boy, but he’s fast growing up into an idiotic man.” The witch nipped anger up Cissa’s jaw, inciting. “All men do is fuck. Fuck you, fuck up, and fuck you up.”

Cissa shivered into Bella’s mouth. The language excited and disgusted her. So many hands on her damn sister. In her.

“You would know best, wouldn’t you.” Narcissa spat a mix of protection and jealousy, her sister’s exploits well-known.

The jealousy flattered her and Bella enjoyed this peculiar opportunity to exploit all the dark twisty things beneath. She planted a soft kiss below that flushed ear.

“You’ve rarely cared which cock I entertain, my dear. Not even when it was your husband’s. Don’t start caring now.” Bellatrix really did enjoy playing demon. He’d been a delicious distraction and a hearty blackmail investment. “It was such a thrill to be where you’ve been.”  
  
“You didn’t...oh you fucking did.” The blonde rasped, aroused or furious. Seething, the blonde slapped the witch, the crack more soundful than fact. Bella raised her brow and enjoyed the sting.

“Cissa.” Bella spoke her name low, just her name. A look.

And Narcissa was wet. The idea of Bellatrix writhing in her bed. With him. The blonde flushed, knowing his length well. Wanting to know how Bella had moaned. And if she came for him, or the wife he’d fucked earlier. There wasn’t a lost love between the Malfoys, but Lucius was at least skilled in the bedroom. Pissed and aroused, Narcissa went wild at her sister, her nails digging cemetery and her mouth full of jealousy. Bella’s lips were eager right back, welcoming the graveyard. Lucius was inconsequential. But Narcissa wouldn’t have any man be her rival, least of all her husband. Barriers down, she hissed an mistake between bated breaths and the curls wrapped around her hands.

“Stretch yourself for any man, but you’re still mine,” Narcissa growled. Blue eyes widened at her own heart, but the damage was done. The disclosure was rarity --- the blonde avoided most talk of their attraction and loyalty. Avoided her own heart really.

“Oh do continue,” Bella murmured, soft at the witch, knowing some levity was needed. She held the witch close, soothing. The blonde had never done well with affection. “It’s such fun to think about you and cock,” Bellatrix purred, somewhat fond at the idea. She kissed the witch, murmuring the prettiest filth and enjoying the whimpers.

It was laughable, the idea that any man was a rival suitor. No one matched Narcissa, not in this. Perhaps harder than necessary (definitely harder than necessary), Bellatrix prodded the blonde farther into the room. But she assuaged the witch, a soft kiss on Cissa’s forehead highlighting all her unspoken promises.

“Such a monster when you’re jealous.” Bella smirked, caressing the woman's face briefly and walking them toward center. But she left the rest alone, mostly. A gift to her jealous-would-be-lover. Softly she muttered, “You fill me differently.”

The blonde flushed at her loss of control. At Bella’s words. Exhausted, she avoided them. Narcissa looked forward to being allowed to sit and collect herself. The room was truly lovely. She saw well-hidden hints of Manor Noir in the design. The particular way the table was angled. The centerpiece piano, by the window. The fabric upholstering the chaise longue and the matching armchairs. All these were fond homage to the better memories of their childhood home. Taken aback then, the blonde squeaked, as a hand splayed her sacrum and bent her slightly at the waist, over the arm of one such chair. At Bella’s gall, Narcissa was torn between furious arousal and embarrassment. Either way, her face was red. Hot without chance of cooling.

“Be good, Cissy dear. Certainly there is no denying that you want this.”

The blonde made what she hoped was a convincing scoff. Desire broke into her every cell, overruling morality. Her entire life she’d survived the life force that was Bellatrix Black. And it was draining, this battle with herself and the world. Not that the object of her desire was helping, salaciously bending her over parlor furniture. The fingertips on the small of her back wreaked havoc. Narcissa wasn’t supposed to want this, but she did.

“My my my, darling, you think your crimes so loudly,” Bella said lightly. “You’re silly to think that you couldn’t have given yourself to me years ago.” She predicted the anguish and traced the curve of Cissa’s back, there for aftercare.

Indignation ripped Narcissa’s throat. Agony. The thought was damning, that maybe she could have avoided decades of misery and found completion. Cissa wondered why the Blacks were so cursed. Nothing seemed to have gone right in the last generation. Half were dead, the other half miserable and tired of the fight. A solid hand wove into hair, pulling her neck exposed.

“I prefer when you stay focused on what’s important, Narcissa.”

The blonde stiffened, wanting those hands and deciding how to comment.

“If you don’t like my mind, don’t invade it.” Childishly, she contemplated kicking the infuriating witch, but their positioning wasn’t ideal: Bella’s hips pressed her bent and the hand in her hair forced her arched.

“Oh I most certainly will, anytime I please. But that’s what you want, isn’t it?” Bellatrix enjoyed as the witch squirmed. “No one else has laid a claim that you felt compelled to honor. We both know that is something I can give you. But everything comes with a price, dear. Will you pay?”

The blonde inhaled, trying to find anything stable in the tumult of the world. The world being Bella and arousal. Bellatrix, who was a storm unto herself.

“What do you charge?” Cissa husked. Her pulse banged arrhythmia and she blushed, her words less insulting and more erotic than intended. Granted, with those siren hips, she doubted anyone would have managed better.

“Are you naive enough to believe that it matters?” Bella’s smirk filled the room and canvassed the walls.

“And the price?” The blonde reiterated. Whatever it was Bella required, they both knew she would give it gladly. No matter how much Narcissa pretended to resist or dislike, it was just that: pretend.

“Deary, you already know. I want the rest of your pretty life. You’re mine alone.”

This time, the blonde didn’t even try to suppress the shudder. The arch. It coursed her body. This. This is why she couldn’t deny Bellatrix, why she couldn’t walk away. Not that she wanted to. The dark witch, for all of her unpredictability, understood Narcissa on a molecular level, having lived under her skin for all of these years. The molasses tasted good and Cissa forced her body to relax. Her anxiety hung in the air, despite the capitulation. A mouth, far more tender than expected, traced reverence up to her ear. Bella’s hips pressed into her body.

“We’ll have time enough later, for tender, my love.” Bella’s hand softened to a guiding tug. Waiting for consent.

Narcissa craned her neck, needing eyes. They met. And it was soul worthy, the kiss Bellatrix laid at her lips. Ethereal. She whimpered softly as Bellatrix loved her. Home.

“Tell me.” Bella wouldn’t pursue. Not without explicitness.

“Yes.” Cissa loved her back.

The slap then was unexpected, as was her own throaty sound, surprised or not. Bellatrix chuckled intent, satisfactory nips on her sister’s reddening face. She controlled again, pressing the witch back into arch.

“Payback, dear. This night is for claim.”

Bella’s hands were too slow, too firm. One thrust her face against the upholstery. Cissa’s breath quickened, despite the humiliation. And damn those hands that she couldn’t will faster; the lack of speed was excruciating. Damnation teased under her silk skirts, grazing her skin in delicate manners. Infernal teeth nipped over fabric. She might have whimpered. She might have sought purchase in Bella’s robes. Narcissa should have known --- she would be consumed at whatever arbitrary pace the witch perfected. And though hated, she would enjoy it most thoroughly.

Her desperation grew feathers. It’d been a (mostly) simple errand to ensure the safety of her son. And now she was macking on furniture. Such is the life of Black. Or Malfoy. Whatever the world deemed her. Bella roved her body in maddening patterns, tangible proof that self-deception had died. The blonde could no more deny this ownership than she could deny air for life.

Sweeping under her gown, Bellatrix’s fingers entered her firmly, punctuating surrender and what should have always been. They fit too easily and Narcissa wrapped wet around the strong hand, her petticoats not hiding the hunger. This was the spell that Bella cast best, murdering their separation. Like the previous touches, the digits slid in and out with deliberation. The witch wasn’t particularly interested in driving the blonde to completion. Not when desperation and gold keens were better artistry. Bellatrix wished the walls had ears, something to record and burn her sister’s sounds into the keep. Castle it wasn’t, but she wanted to paint the surfaces with sex. Wanted it ingrained in the woodgrain, hard and slick. Every stroke exerted control and plagued the shivering body. Bella’s fingers curled, forcing a hoarse moan from Narcissa. The blonde hissed, as another finger added and filled her past reservation. Some lid popped off, her sounds soft but unchecked. Cissa had a lifetime of hiding pleasure and faking in its absence. If the farce was up, she no longer need pretend that she was unaffected.

“Good witch,” Bellatrix breathed, enjoying the view. The feel. Narcissa was magnificent, whimpered and dripping.

She allowed Cissa’s faceplant to dissipate and switched their slightly angle. Bellatrix took her from behind still, her corset now pressed against that lithe back. Cissa fell into her, her leg slightly propped on the chair arm. The leverage was blissful. They moved together, a well-oiled and wanton machine, thrusts no longer one-sided. They pistoned and Narcissa mewed crudely, curse rolling off her tongue.

“F-fuck. Please.”

Bellatrix purred, the small victory coating her throat and the air sultry. But even when she swore, the blonde carried class. The lieutenant was after anything but.

“Let’s hear you then, pet.”

Teeth scraped Cissa’s neck and tongued the abrasions. But the soul was felt more thoroughly --- their fucking driven as much by emotion as it was by sinning splendor. Here, Narcissa discovered freedom. It terrified her. She shook her head, caught between desire and barriers. She reached back around Bella’s neck, her gasps eaten by her shelter.

“Oh, my dear. Prove your desire.” Bellatrix wouldn’t let fear chase off surrender. “Make it worth my while or you’ll never reach that pinnacle. I could keep you this way indefinitely, witch. You know I could.” The dark witch fucked this firmly, her fingers hard and rough. “You’re so tight.”

“Bella,” Cissa husked.

The blonde’s speech was rough and greedy. Whining. Pleasant. The Death Eater didn’t respond, opting to fuck harder. Her name wasn’t enough of a concession and she was certain Narcissa was well aware of this fact. Not that Bella minded the way it sounded, all torn and needy.

“Please,” the blonde choked out syllable.

“Not good enough. After all, this is what you had intended for bat-boy, isn’t it?” Bellatrix fucked her disdain, snarling and savoring cunt.   
  
“Bella,” she half-apologized, breathy and bouncing. Narcissa wanted to-- but it was so hard to manage thought with her sister buried inside. “I wasn’t going to--”

“You were. Don’t insult with blatant lies.” Bella’s tongue was flat in speech and on the back of her neck. Cissa whimpered, sensitive under her affections. This was punishment or paradise.

Her head dropped in concession, body shivering. Of course, Bellatrix wasn’t wrong about that. There was nothing she wouldn't do to protect her son. Though clearly, she had not selected the best option.

“I’m sorry.” True grief bobbed out her throat, the admission rolling down Cissa’s cheeks.

“Fuck your sorry.” And Bella did, fingers hot and viced. Cissa gasped and the witch took it for pleasure. It was. It wasn’t enough. “You are always so sorry. When will you make choices that you need not be sorry for?” Bellatrix raged, hating Snape. And hurting. Hating Cissa’s lack of direction or understanding. “When will you choose me?” Her free hand wrapped under dress and around Cissa’s hip, finding clit and anger. Her witch was slick.

Despite the harsh words between, they writhed together, Bella’s fingers pounding heart and Cissa’s heat founding start.

“W-what!” Narcissa stuttered and dripped. “After all these years, you have to ask my choice?!” Rage. “You very well know where my soul lies, but what would you have me do? He’s my child. Snape was protection.” Cissa bore her hips backwards, forwards in offering. Keening at the touch. She would take any retribution Bella chose, so long as she could avoid answering questions.

“I’d have you own your faults. As obviously, you’re ashamed of our sins. And I’d have you in front of the bat, like a damned bitch if that’s what it took. I’d have you trust me. Trust me with your child. Our child.”

Draco wasn’t Bella’s by birth, but certainly by nurture. And blood. Cissa’s blood. Their blood. Lucius had been more donation, more drill sergeant than parent. It’d been Bella who soothed Draco’s scrapes in her gruff way. Bella who had bluntly informed him what to do with cock and crushes. How to sneak out the house. What flowers his mother liked best. So Bellatrix yelled grief and withdrew her hands, sick of Cissa being able to hide.

Off balance, the blonde stumbled to her knees. Bella followed down and behind, teeth ravishing the spot where Cissa’s shoulder lost its cloth. They pressed together, Narcissa braced under Bella’s frame, her knees smarting as they rutted. Their dresses made a mess of intimacy, but it was fitting, the proper silk catching on a black corset. Wading through obnoxious petticoats, Bellatrix cupped the blonde’s core from behind, her hand welcomed by heat. Finding the witch soaked, Bellatrix rasped terrible nothings and belted the witch in place with her other arm, slung low across hips. Besides the occasional seduction, Bellatrix kept quiet, quite enjoying the muted symphony of Madame Malfoy’s mouth.

Cissa picked up their conversation, the perfect parrot of society. But she rocked hypocritical hips and gasped for oxygen sips. Her legs shook.

“We should be ashamed.” Narcissa slipped against that hand anyway, conviction and arousal abundant. “You’re my sister and this is...this is...”

“What you want. Don’t pretend that you’re any less depraved,” Bellatrix reproached, no shade of gentility in her movements.

Not that it made Cissa want the attention any less. This was the version of Bella she liked best and the version of herself she liked least. Narcissa arched into their universe, retching at their truth. Just a taste of distance and maybe she could reassemble her walls. Go back to pretend, before the day proved her wanton and confessed. She rebelled in their embrace, but the attempt lacked in any real intent. Unimpressed, Bella swept Cissa’s knees out from under her. The socialite grunted her frustration, now sprawled on her stomach and sensitivities. Her infuriating sister found the space between shoulder blades and pressed down hard --- the blonde would remain prostrate on the floor until the dark witch was satisfied.

“Stay down,” Bellatrix hissed, sitting on the witch’s legs. “Shame doesn’t reside here. I do.” She thrust up those skirts again, fingers sheathing home.

Cissa cried out, scared of self and mouthing the floor blissfully. Bella’s gripped her wrists behind, cutting off struggle and using the leverage. This position of wonders. Narcissa’s cunt was impossibly tight and Bella’s hand unforgiving. Slick and knowing.

“Tell me.” Three fingers then, claiming.

“I won’t,” Cissa gasped, filled, refusing to acknowledge this verity.

“Narcissa,” Bellatrix commanded firmly, her tone having all the warmth of a well-loved quilt and the grate of uneven stitches. She was done letting Cissa avoid their orbit. Done tending this affair in the shadows. “Please,” Bella croaked, her hands stroking those favoured wrist bones. Her alto was unique, balanced between order and beseech. A sound for Cissa and Cissa alone.

Narcissa broke. She wanted that mouth. That vulnerable sound again.

“Fuck me.” Narcissa growled, handing over inevitability to the devil.

Bellatrix moaned victory and did just that. An onlooker would think such fury cruel, but her lover was wet and accommodating. She kissed the silk on Cissa’s back and relished the woman’s tremble on floor, lithe legs straight and pressing tight around hand. Stretched, the blonde purred. It had been a very long time since anyone had made such physical demands of her body. She could scarcely recall ever feeling so well used. She knew the brunette would have little attention span, not in this worked-up state. Taking advantage, Cissa swung back on all fours, craning neck to meet. Bella’s eyes hungered, enthralled with the socialite on hands and knees. Narcissa, for all her indecision, was done playing puppet. A sharp shove and she sent Bellatrix sprawling backwards. The lieutenant managed a haughty landing on her ass, even in the surprised tumble. Bellatrix raised a dangerous eyebrow, annoyed at her free and sticky fingers. She licked them, winning a blonde blush.

“Come.” Cissa forced authority into her shaking voice, ignoring Bella’s titter at the word choice. With as much dignity as she could muster, Narcissa pulled herself to feet and strode out the room, her hands adjusting her twisted dress. She hadn’t been to the domicile before, but assumed there was a master bedroom. A bed was required if were they to continue this heated beat.

“To the left,” Bellatrix rasped knowingly. She followed her sister away from their parlor games.

The lieutenant looked forward to bluntness. Something her Cissa avoided, much like her idiot husband. If this were to be an honest eve, then Narcissa would have to confront a number of hard truths. The blonde found the room soon enough, small as the cottage was, but it wouldn't do for Cissy to think she had subverted. Cissa felt her way through the hall, searching for brass knob. As fingers closed the cool metal, Bellatrix pressed against her back. Resistance futile, the blonde sighed and leaned back. There was little point in pretending that her body didn’t crave whenever separation cleaved them.

“If you needed a softer surface, all you had to do was ask,” Bellatrix taunted, knowing any request would have been admission of need.

“I worry only for your aging body,” Narcissa snapped, swinging sass and the door open.

Her hostess lit the room, a quick charm ruffling through candle lines. There was specific warmth to it. Cissa took a quick tour of the room, noting the bed. The writing desk by window and moon. Pine and cinnamon hexed the air, the residue skating over their skin. Bella’s magic had always been potent, lingering in every space she blew. Cissa breathed in, surrounded by the witch, even feet away. It was damn near impossible to have a more intimate experience than being systematically disassembled by her sister. Her need buzzed low.

“Only one need to worry. ” Fondly, Bella watched as the witch fingered a quill, glossing over the open parchment roll, waiting and blank. Seal stamps standing ready for any ado. The blonde moved onto the dresser.

“Which might that be?” Cissa skimmed over a candle, playing with fire on the bureau. She shivered, feeling the air shift. Bella was behind her. She turned.

“Dumb isn’t particularly flattering on you,” Bellatrix hissed. “You’re more than equipped to see to my needs.” She undid the ties of Cissa’s dress, watching fabric find floor. Enjoying the ragged blonde breath as petticoat layers soon followed. “Well well,” Bella silked, enjoying the flush that brushed over Cissa’s bare breasts. “Impressive you got your panties in a snit despite their obvious absence,” she sneered, pleased that the blonde forwent lingerie under expensive fabric. In the earlier swarm of petticoats, it hadn’t been salient. But then, realization. “You went fucking commando for Snivellus?”

Narcissa backed away, having no desire to reevaluate how she’d prepared for the day. As any wise woman recognized, body remained a great asset. Cissa simply hadn’t realized with whom she would be leveraging her appeal.

“There’s no escape from this.” Bella’s hand lifted Cissa’s chin, as the witch grew skittish. “Where has your bravery gone, flower?” She cocked head, inquiring in the stead of wrath.

Narcissa bristled at the accusation. She’d brought them to chambers with intention and it was not to cower. Bared in bedroom, she stared down this power. One stride and she was well within Bella’s personal space. It was rare for the socialite to act out of instinct, but rational thought had gained nothing this day. Brash and emboldened, Cissa wrenched Bellatrix about the waist and bit an unforgiving kiss. If it was brutal authenticity Bellatrix was after, Narcissa would deliver.

Bellatrix purred wolfishly, her hands firm and stealing. She devoured, matching her sister’s ignition. Cissa was a creature and Bella had enough experience with fickle to know the dance. She tasted repression, fierce and green. If it was apology the blonde wrote, then Cissa wasn’t contrite enough. Bellatrix let that slide for now, content to mouth her sister’s pretty and pinch gasps from that prim throat. Her hands slid up Cissa’s back and fit the witch to her. Nipples rasped against her corset and Bella mussed those blonde locks into pirate’s gold. Long denied, this wasn’t a night for niceties. She built Cissa’s neck to bruise and purpled her moans. It was a night for fucking.

“Bella,” Cissa basked, skyclad under the moon and dark havior.

Leading backwards, the dark witch hit the bed. The wood frame carving into the back of her legs. She kissed Narcissa red, til her name spilled mantra off those swollen lips.

“You seem stuck on my name.” Throatily, Bellatrix approved of the benediction and encouraged the delicate notes. “But you’ve prayer to speak elsewhere.” She brought shy hands to her bodice and guided them down in unravel. Over her hips, across her apex. Bella nibbled Cissa’s ear. “You face looks good when shushed. Time for it to shine.”

Narcissa’s eyes grew large, fluent in Bellatrix. Despite her years, she flushed -- that not a thing ventured in her marriage bed or by women in high society. Lucius had never offered and she’d never thought it alright to ask. A knowing nose nuzzled her cheek and Bella’s teeth growled her jaw. Narcissa stalled and raised a brow, worrying at the ties of Bella’s dress. Her hands shook with vehemence. Bellatrix would have none of it.

“Deny, but you tremble at the idea.” Bella’s eyes flicked down to her corset, where blonde fingers shook. A creature of id, this wasn’t something she understood.

The witch pressed a warm hand to the center of Narcissa’s chest, seeking heart. The muscle quickened and Cissa flushed dark, caught. Fondly, Bella traced her mouth, her thumb cherishing Cissa’s bottom lip. The warrior continued, her gentleness made erotic.

“You think I haven’t heard you at moon, writhing in your sheets?” She keyed Cissa’s hands to her own chest. The corset ties were loose and arousal brushed Cissa’s palms. “You host morning-after teeth marks, from biting yourself to silence.” Bellatrix left Cissa’s hands to their own stunned devices and traced the witch’s hips. “But you always cry out when you come for me.”

Narcissa’s lungs stumbled and she whimpered at the plentiful midnights. It’d become a regular occurrence, clamping down on Bella’s name. Dark nights, dark eyes, stark cries.

“I know what has you tip over edge, what you want with that pretty mouth of yours.” Sultry smoked blunt.

Bella guided them to bed. Regally perched, she watched blue eyes go wary. Giving Cissa the height advantage, she drew the standing witch between her legs. Bellatrix mouthed the shaking woman, mapping desire across her stomach. Her teeth quipped ribs, before claiming breasts, tips swollen and hard in her mouth. The blonde trembled something awful, her silence not fooling either of them. Bella’s hands raked her sides and settled on lower back. Fanatically, Narcissa tugged Bella against her, pulling out the haphazard pins that piled the witch’s hair back. Curls spilled onto her stomach and she wasted no time wrapping therein for anchor. Bellatrix would never tell how much she appreciated playing anchor. She licked the valley between breasts, painting her hearth over heart, before finding nipple again.

“Despite your penchant for invading my privacy, this…” Cissa faltered at Bella’s attentions and blushed, murmuring approval. “Yes.” Bella nipped and the blonde whimpered. “You had no right, Bellatrix. None.”

Cissa fumed last dish sentiments and dragged hair harshly, Bella’s eyes forced to her. The sight was erotic, those full lips pissed and sucking. But domina had enough and nailed sentiment in Cissa’s backside. Bellatrix bit down too hard, smirking as her lover cried out, albeit, in a controlled fashion.   
  
“I had absolute right. You’re mine,” Bellatrix snapped and bit the other nipple for good measure. “And you’re going to fuck me with that starving mouth of yours and fall apart while you feast.” Her temper went wild like mistress. “Down.”

It was quick. Strong. Magic spun out and dropped Cissa to her knees. And Narcissa remembered why dragons weren’t to be tickled, sleeping or otherwise. Felled, her long tresses wrapped about Bella’s hand. Mistress stroked her conquered cheek and Cissa rested her forehead against a skirt clad knee, awed at alter. She’d longed for too many black nights, too cold in bed. Hands demanded her head and she whimpered, smelling Bella through skirts. She pulled at the witch’s hips, dress ruching up in the process. Her arms laced under smooth legs, wanting sample. Bellatrix approved and tugged Cissa’s head up, staking proprietary notions.  
  
“Eat.” The goddess commanded.

Baleful eyes gnawed hunger, the last calm before storm. Overdue, the dark witch pulled lips to her core for Christening. Moaning, Cissa found her temple. There would be time enough for looking later. But for now, there was only her mouth around clit and answering hips. Bellatrix was enthralled, her tongue running over her teeth...watching her favoured witch find self. She tugged on the blonde’s hair, rocking against those sinful lips. Shining her favourite face with truth and lust.

“Cissa,” she growled, her call greedy like cunt.

It answered in her thighs, parched by fucking thirst and god Cissa...her mouth. Bellatrix let it heat, gasping as Narcissa grew curious, circling over her hard flesh in the quiet of flickered moon fights. Cold nights were far away now, as Cissa sated her furious soul over again and over, her tongue brewing salt and pine. Bella soothed the woman’s cheek, purring as her witch feasted. The blonde was a demanding lover, building casualty fast. Bella keened breathily, as teeth raked her over, a sweet tongue soothing every scrape. It was excruciatingly wonderful. She wanted those lips. Bella pulled the witch firmly, lifting the wild head up from catharsis. Narcissa was a beautiful submissive, all flushed and shiny. Bella had only meant to caress the witch’s face, taste herself on a brief kiss.

They never got that far.

The blonde mewed loss and grappled frantically, a wounded animal finding home in outrage. The lieutenant realized she’d interrupted too soon; they had many trusts to build. Bellatrix kept the witch close and lullabyed murmurs, her hand adoring Cissa’s chin. But if Bellatrix was moved, it didn’t change course. Her hips rolled and she held Cissa back, just out of range. Bella felt whimpers between her thighs --- a lifetime of lingering gazes set loose here. She realized, this was Cissa buying her soul back after all those years lost. Bella softened, understanding the need to fill all those empties with now. But oh fuck, Cissa was wholeheartedly found.

Frustrated, the blonde spilt her heart on Bella’s thighs.

“Need you.” Cissa hissed, ashamed of this desire. The blonde had spent too many caged years, denying self. For her husband. Her son. For society.

“Oh darling, you’re still mine.” Bella consoled her prim lover, overcome with devotion to this beautiful creature, so fearful of rejection and anything that felt like freedom. She promised possession in those gold locks, her heart beating wardrum. “Hold still. I want...oh I want to ride.”

She stroked Cissa’s jaw, imparting the desire, the twinkle in her eye playful and uncharacteristically kind at her emotional lover. Cissa understood and granted Bella control, her face a shade darker. Suddenly furious with her clothing, Bella wrestled her gown, until it relinquished, corset and all. The darker witch enjoyed this personal hell; Cissa’s desperation and careful hands. Blue eyes drew up her body, shy and entranced like spring frost. The view was prime. Cissa took her in. Dark eyes like curls. Pale curves and rosed cunt. They’d bathed together before, but not in years. And this was better than any sunset.

“I--” She didn’t have words, so Narcissa kissed Bella’s inner thigh, blushing. Hands stroking apex like art had schooled here.

Bellatrix watched Cissa’s face, enjoying the compliment. She winked, guiding the witch back to hearth. Flames coiled in Bella’s stomach and she found her sister’s mouth the best of stationary things. She ground, canting cunt and coating the flat of Cissa’s tongue.

Bellatrix had no problems with body and glory. She reveled in the sheets, breasts proud in air, her soul sold on gold and riding that tongue between folds. The softest of sounds vibrated her clit and she bucked, fingers clawing at flaxen. Flushed, Cissa’s hands crept up her body. Bella let the witch have the illusion of control, delighted that it prompted boldness in other ways. She felt the tentative exploration, the restraint. The dips into her cunt. She nearly laughed aloud; the prim witch was perfect. And proper Cissy wanted improper things. Bellatrix was guttural, and didn’t wait for action. Simply lowered herself onto Cissa’s tongue. For her part, Cissa couldn’t fathom the sensation of Bellatrix around her, slick and erotic. She whimpered as Bella fucked her mouth slowly, gripping and slipping her ambrosia.

Hoarsely, Bellatrix ordered.  
  
“Fuck yourself.” Her voice scaled lower, hitting all the octaves and sharps.

Narcissa shook her head, tears still wisping her corners. It was one thing to...to do this. But to...in front of Bella? No. Her thumb found the witch’s clit and legs trembled against her head. She mewed as Bellatrix tightened around her. It was mercy to taste such magic. A perfect foot stroked her spine to concave arch.

“Narcissa.” Bella chose softness, knowing this to be uncharted territory for her recalcitrant lover. “Darling, you forget I know your mind.” She pulsed around the stubborn tongue, whimpering need against her. Inside her. Her hands calmed Cissa’s hair, assuaging fears. Bella tried not to moan, as the shaking head denied.

Bellatrix caught between frowned and mountain high.

Her witch was a sight, buried in treasure and bared for the marvelous moon. Such potential and damning desire. This would take more than words. She pulled the woman away from treat, despite protest. Narcissa whimpered rockslide and Bella knew this was more than physical. The unfortunates of life and Cissa had learned it was best keep herself safe and shackled. Bellatrix sat up and strong-armed the woman to her. The bed was lowset, low enough for excellent coquettes. The blonde still knelt on the floor, head now snugged against Bella’s chest. The lieutenant tipped that chin upward, Cissa’s eyes wide and worn. Curls dipped and Bellatrix tasted herself on that desperate mouth. Bella protected; legs wrapped ’round the witch, painting desire on stomach. Narcissa hitch a breath and begged a kiss; they sealed together, hot and hearty. The lieutenant was unclear on what the witch needed: domination, flesh, or...release. Perhaps all and then some. Turning over puzzle, Bellatrix let the woman immerse and find safety. Bella chanced a mitigated request.

“Touch yourself,” She rasped, wanting such image between her legs.

A strangled whimper. Another tremulous kiss. And Bellatrix locked piece into place: Narcissa wasn’t scared of their sin. She was scared of desire. Ah. Remedy was in order. Bellatrix moved, grinding against the woman, purring as Narcissa keened breathily. Hands threaded through yellow hair and the blonde moaned against Bella’s breast, breathy and new. Bella tipped her sister’s head up, finding shy eyes. Bellatrix had forgotten; Lucius may be husband, but he was no lover. It was likely Cissa had learned to please...not receive. In some sense then, Narcissa was virgin to mutuality. Treading this knowledge, Bellatrix was slow. Careful. Unhurried as she guided the witch’s own arm to needy core. Cissa trembled against Bella’s chest, as her fingers brushed her own depths. Surprised at the heat, she squeaked. Bucked. Whimpered. Circled. Breathed.

“Bella, I...”

“I know.”

Bellatrix didn’t look away, her eyes bridge for the witch. Narcissa explored. Her lips sought anchor and sucked at peaks, wide-eye at Bella’s reactions. Brushfire between her thighs, Cissa moaned as her hips drew their own course, charting trails across hand. A particular graze and she gasped against nipples, flummoxed by the flood that wetted her hand. It was everything as Bella cupped her face, thumb finding spacetime. She blushed at the sound from Bellatrix, utterly wanton and approving. There was power in this, Cissa realized, if Bella’s flushed face indicated anything. Heels dug into her back as the warrior waged battle, grinding sharpened bud against Cissa’s curves.

“Rock with me,” the witch whispered.

And Cissa did, letting Bella conduct her body against hand. Bellatrix let her acclimate and rally rhythm. Cissa’s sounds spilled like satin, wonderfully soft and lacing. Genuine. And the dark witch wondered how stupid Lucius was, to have this prize and have it not. Her sibling was a rare bloom when wild. Blue eyes gleamed navy in the dark. Bella unwrapped her legs and guided, intending for Cissy to try again. She liked the wonder. The position itself enticed, more so as it was Narcissa’s desire. Bella intended to fulfil it.

“Taste.” She brushed her lover’s lips and nudged her downward.

Cissa blushed but took direction, this time more comfortable. She nodded against that palm and let Bella steer her. This round, she spent time and took in the beauty. She kissed a strong thigh and traced amble. Training wand gone, she didn’t need Bella to keep her gliding against her own hand. (Though it didn’t stop Bella’s leg from rocking the boat anyway. The visual was a sinful wage.) The blonde grew bolder and took to the steady motion, gasping as they rendered her wet and wanting. She keened, nipping Bella’s inner thigh and shaking breath.

“F-feels...feels so--”

“Good. Oh fucking good.”

They were seamless. They rocked.

The blond suckled on prized bloom; Bellatrix shone in the dark. For all of her letting go, Narcissa gained the upper hand. Reserved lips relaxed, seduced by rosehips. Bellatrix fought basic urge, wanting to grip Cissa’s hair and hold her mouth just so…and fuck the witch’s face. Instead, Bella subjected herself to the rhythm of the novel. A fantastic feat, considering she’d never been one to deny herself gratification. Over the years, Bella had fucked the sources available...forever seeking oblivion, if only to curb the touch she’d wanted. She luxuriated now, having found victory. This act was as much about Cissa accepting their relationship as it was about any sort of powerplay. It wouldn’t do to rush the witch or the coming. Gleefully, Bellatrix was certain that there would be time enough later for mindgames. For now, the candle dripped on the dresser and her thoughts plotted future wax and uses for leather. Cissa was unequivocally hers and she intended to indelibly brand that sentiment. But Bella’s thoughts were suddenly inchoate, as Cissa’s teeth grew brazen and bit her hood...painting aloe with tongue. The blonde teased entrance, kissing lips. Faster. Pinch. Repeat. The blonde kept to this system and pushed Bellatrix higher. Occasionally Narcissa dabbled below heat, teasing the foothills of a more taboo territory.

“Hell, you’re filthy on your knees.” Bellatrix cussed her hearty pleasure, her nails digging flesh and sheets. Patience fucked, she pulled Cissa’s mouth against her, demanding, “Fuck us both.”

Cissa moaned around clit, tracing folds instead. Blushed at Bella’s words, she half obliged, slipping her tongue back inside. She rolled against her hand, fingers grazing bedlam. Bellatrix growled, knowing the woman avoided. But then a whimper sounded inside her and Bella tightened. It was the sound that roused most, understanding this was Narcissa’s home all along. Arched and laughing, dark eyes flashed and magic roamed. Cissa startled slightly as it crackled the room, sparks smoking out the candles. The lieutenant held Cissa’s hand against her hip, encouraging drunk fingertips. She wrapped around that tongue and dripped onto Cissa’s chin. Close, Bella calmed her, lover fingers raking tresses, as she thrust against ledge. She lifted the blonde’s face just enough and found blown eyes, indelible and the color of bedroom. The visual was fantastic, slick, like Bellatrix on Narcissa’s face. Bella hovered on the edge, shaking and clarified. Cissa blushed at such beauty, her breath labored. She touched herself still, crying out success (even if denying the specific request). Narcissa hit a particular sweet spot and her hips jerked with abandon. She came violently, her howl skating over Bella’s skin. Overheated, orgasm broke over Bella. Heat was their chosen weather and Bellatrix gasped surprise, as euphoria sang out unscripted pleasures.

Mid-throe, Bella thought several objects suspended. But rationale was background as Narcissa drank the mess she’d made, gasping benedictions and after-shock whimpers. Keen on snagging a repeat, Cissa’s tongue was eager and adored. As appealing as that situation was, it would not do. Narcissa belonged on her back, fucked and utterly Black. Quick movements and Bellatrix had the witch beneath her, pinned to the bed and framed by mane. She didn’t hesitate to chase ample curves, still trembling from orgasm. Kneeled above the witch, Bellatrix was quite lusting and content.

“Please again.” Narcissa kissed her shakily, her face open like daybreak.

Hands tangled in gold and Bellatrix was incapable of denying that particular want. It was gratifying to say the very least. Her sister’s awe was delicious, much like her submissive trembles. And that shining shining mouth. Bella’s lips hovered, greedy and bold.

“Taste,” the blonde whispered, her shyness overridden by mischief.

She offered her mouth and Bella took its worth, tasting pine and wine. It was unclear who whimpered at Bella’s salt. Personally, the dark witch thought the blonde should taste of her as frequently as possible. She slid her thigh between Cissa’s, enjoying playing control tower. Her haughty fingers must have sparked accidentally, because Narcissa keened in Bella’s mouth and arched, center wet against her thigh. Other thoughts branched and Bellatrix took measure for herself. Her teeth teased and softly pleased, their bodies finding slow grind for a while. The position was exquisite, Narcissa unable to give back the same kind of touch. This softness, being for Cissa alone. Bella whispered spiced nothings, noting the witch’s tendency to flood when dirty words bit ear. She kissed their darks, fueling Cissa’s molten, slicked between them. Gasps and grasps and the blonde’s sounds thickened. She released Narcissa, only when the witch was breathless and squirming. As quite she should be.

And then Bella’s growl was elsewhere, prowled and clamping. Narcissa could hardly believe the speed of the fierce witch; at times she seemed superhuman. Bella’s teeth sunk into the side of her breast in a very Bellatrix fashion. Hands wrapped underneath Narcissa and it was all at once touching and pain lacing. Cissa didn’t fight the way her back bowed at the sensation. Eagerly, she offered her body up to the mistress, dark and powered above her. The flush on sharp cheekbones was the only lingering proof of Bella’s pleasure. Dark eyes that’d gone glassy near climax were once again clear and cutting. The shrewd look rendered Narcissa transparent, soul and all. And she struggled not to cover her chest. This type of soul baring wasn’t for the everyday heart. The intimate perusal made Narcissa shake, mewed against the clever fingers roving her body.

“Tsk, tsk, darling girl,” Bella taunted. “Surely you didn’t think it would all be cake. That you could get me off once and I’d forget earlier...transgressions?”

Narcissa would have stomped her foot and pouted, had her current position had allowed the petulance. Though she had agreed to Bella’s whims (now and for the foreseeable future), it hadn’t quashed her hope that orgasm would soften the witch’s resolve. That said, she wasn’t particularly surprised to be thwarted. Bellatrix would always have her claim, one way or a bloody other. The blonde propped herself up somewhat, on elbows, capturing soft lips again.

“I didn’t mean to distract,” Cissa whispered, her eyelashes fluttering the opposite. Perhaps with some measure of uncertainty.

“And I’m a fucking hippogriff,” was returned near the blonde’s ear. But there carried a weight of affection, one other ears would never witness. Bella had to chuckle as her tone had the witch in moan (ridiculous content aside). She affected the blonde, prompting involuntary bucks and frigs. Narcissa hips rolled against the dark witch, and Bellatrix relished the slick beats of their heart and those perfect hands in her curls.

“As long as you’re not f-fucking one, we’ll be dandy,” Narcissa snarked.

The blonde was felled to her dark lover, but sass certainly wasn’t dead. The sliver of a smirk and Cissa sucked a full bottom lip into her mouth, far sweeter than her words. Perhaps it had been intended as seduction and nip, but it rendered tender wit. Wet heat slipped over Bella’s leg along with the proud dimples of the blonde’s resolve. She’d crack this nut eventually. Hands guided the blonde and their bodies into glide. Amused and knowing, Bellatrix allowed them their long and candied moments, all lips and soft sighs. The coyness, she knew, was Cissa’s attempt at okay and delay, the soft touches grounding. But it was genuine, this affection. She felt it in Cissa’s breath and her eager heart. Bellatrix had spent far too many years watching the blonde hide behind facade. And while she was willing to coax and cajole for a time, Bella wasn’t keen on letting Cissa bring that to bed indefinitely. She wanted the raw and dirty and vulnerable sounds. It wouldn’t do to allow the flower shelter. Not when storms were meant for revel. But she immersed with the witch, knowing this too had place and power. And beauty. And though the lieutenant wouldn’t admit it, the gasps falling in her mouth tasted sweeter than iced water.

But small things first.

The spreading orgasm crept over the blonde like teakettle, her breath barely changing but her body full of shudder. Lush and relaxing, it was sweet weather, with all the trappings of clever love. But it certainly wasn’t Cissa without armor, however lovely it was.

Narcissa caressed Bella’s jaw in wonder and wander, black eyes watching her totters. Their grind hadn’t stopped, merely traded for slick and lulled weather, their bodies slow and unhurried, a course for better. For now Bellatrix led, pushing against cunt and years of missed heaven. She’d forgotten the metal of a lover (or perhaps she’d never had such soft gold in all the evers). Bella found splendor as Cissa’s blues darkened like the whirlpools of sea and motion. The blonde’s wonder eclipsed everything, these light touches not like the sorts she’d gained prior. Those, physical and clever. These, heart brushes of feather. The soft lips against her own danced, all the waltzes and tremors. Cissa’s hands on Bella’s face shook and belied her being; Bellatrix knew the witch still restrained. She whispered as much into ear, as Cissa unabashedly ground her sentiments wet on Bella’s thigh, drawing them nigh.

“Cissa.” Bellatrix spoke tone alone, lowering her hips just enough, for something slightly more mutual.

“I can’t!” The blonde gasped into her ear, as a particular roll hit her clit, rasping hood and hard and hither. Anxious she shifted, “Your demands are utterly re--”

“Reasonable,” Bellatrix drolled, unaffected, and ignoring the sudden pleasure of Cissa’s thigh.

Narcissa was less able to hide her surprise and whimpered at quick brush of velvet, Bellatrix painted on her. Desire pooled and her house served her well, undermining Bella’s well-manipulated plan. If she were to display vulnerability, so would Bellatrix.

“Ride me and I’ll consider,” the blonde uttered, her face flushed at such improprietous words. But she spoke this, despite Bella’s conquering heart and position.

Cissa revelled in the sparks her hands suddenly wielded on Bella’s back -- blues and indigo crackling their bodies brilliant. (Bella wasn’t the only one capable of such manifestation. Or topping.) The lieutenant’s flashed an unreadable arousal and Narcissa was fond of the mystery and quiet fuming. Bella preferred Cissa under her like this (winter and wet) but was open to experiment. However, this particular request played at more than exploration. Submission. A thing not granted easily by the goddess. Their grinding halted and Narcissa gasped at the lingering vestige, denied by Bella’s hips. They breathed and Bellatrix found the crook of her sister’s neck, her serious lips grazing subject.

“You’d have me reined and haltered?” Bellatrix tensed, even if relaxed as Cissa’s hand wandered their love over her lips.

A soft kiss in curls.

“Never.” The blonde tilted Bella’s chin up, a quiet vehemence in her understanding eye and tongue. “I’d have you reign unrestrained.” Narcissa’s hand grew bold and cunning. “I want your freedom. Nothing so poor as captivity.” It trembled fourteen years of separation on Bella’s spine.

Knowing Cissa’s toil with past horrors, Bellatrix let the moment pass them by. Now was not the time to discuss the particulars of her difficulty giving up control, nor the blonde’s forever fear of prison repeat. She did however amuse at the blonde’s manipulated ridiculum. Kissing diversion, Bella subtly shifted their position, her hands further propping Cissa up on the island of pillows that fortified the headboard. Her eyes dipped briefly, to the woman’s legs spread beneath. She found her sister’s face, stroking thought and considerations. She swung over the witch, one thigh between hers. The clear straddle was answer enough to Narcissa’s demands -- even if the witch didn’t realize yet. Bellatrix sat atop the lounging woman and did not hesitate to pin Cissa’s arms to the wall. Those wrists were enticing. But Bellatrix wasn’t a siren for nothing.

“You ask me what I’ve already asked of you. And have been denied.” Bella let their bodies begin again and purred as they pressed together. Not enough to smear them wet, just enough to make it lusting. Stubborn and high born, curious and playful, Bellatrix stole a kiss, whispering her witch’s desire. “You want my surrender.” She softened as Narcissa’s breath hitched crazily at the content, at their exhumed bodies and fires.

“I want y-you,” Cissa breathed and bit Bella’s lip, needing. Pulling them closer.

“And why me first?” Bellatrix smirked, pleased at the throbbing cunt against her leg, quivered and neglected.

“You’re the eldest.” Narcissa raised an eyebrow, most matter-of-factly.

The warrior cackled, an unexpected happiness spilling into the room, her lips chuckling kisses and stealing breath. It was childhood revisited in ways that suited them.

“I asked first.”

“Harpy.”

“Bint.”

Cissa giggled then, light filling her face and their walls. The laughter lingered, but her statement remained. As did Bella’s waiting gaze. The conquered Slytherin shivered, but released Cissa’s wrists. Instead, Bellatrix wrapped them together, their lips drawn close and fitted.

“Together then,” Bella said, kissed her softly. Far from demure, but everything devoted. Acknowledging the power Cissa had over her.

Narcissa gasped at the quiet submission and her blue eyes widened, found and at a loss to the logistics. But then Bellatrix moved and Cissa realized their woven position, Bella slick on her thigh and she slick on Bella’s. (Narcissa would later applaud the woman’s orchestration.) Surprised, her hands jumped to the witch’s hips, full of want and guiding heat. The blonde was ragged in Bella’s mouth, the sensation intense and vulnerable. For moments Narcissa was unable to find her own action, fully entranced by molasses hips and the lines of Bella’s body as she rode slowly. The dark witch was heartbreakingly pretty, this slow tender fitting their splendor. Bellatrix might have been on top, but that didn’t matter. This was Cissa in control and Cissa directing Bella’s pleasure. That Bellatrix allowed it was...treasured. They’d started this as mutual, but Bellatrix permitted some flexibility, letting Narcissa push her back an inch, away from the blonde’s apex. Cissa understood that Bella had to fluctuate, were they to hold this moment dear. Between the whimpers on her jaw. The intimate thumb on her lip. The dirties breathed in ear. But then Bella’s reminding mouth bit her neck, commanding their compromise. Crying out and shaking, Cissa’s hands wandered between them and she sought her own folds, starting slow and safe. Bellatrix tipped their foreheads together and her full breasts swayed, brushing against Narcissa. The warrior felt the witch’s hand graze her thigh with every circle. Feel Cissa’s tensing beneath her.

“Good girl.” Bellatrix murmured.

It became easier for Narcissa to touch, watching Bella...beautiful and unchartered. She explored, testing pressure and geography. The sounds between them intoxicated, but it was mostly Bella sounding (Cissa held her breath, a novice at such masturbation). But then one particular pass from Bellatrix engendered a flood, Narcissa overcome at such a precious thing. Such a warrior in such a state and she had to rasp Bella’s name in response. Approving lips nipped her collarbone, rewarding the benediction. For awhile, they were seamless: Bella’s encouragement in her ear, Cissa’s upon her hip. But as desire rose, so did Bella’s demons. Close to orgasm, her eyes were suddenly guarded and her face tilted away as pleasure rose, as if the blonde’s gaze would strike her down. Too open, Bellatrix whimpered for too many reasons. Her mind started to drift into itself. A quiet hitch, as her clit pulsed. She was glad it was Cissa beneath her. Her Cissa. She missed her all those years. A soft keen, and Azkaban images invaded. Stone. Isolation. Silence. Desolation. Cissa. She wanted Cissa. She wanted out of her cell and bars. Bellatrix clutched at the witch’s back...a specter between their land of living and her dead of before.

Bella’s nails were less wanton and more lifeline. She clung to Cissa, the lifeboat she’d lost when boarded on that horrible prison rock, in the sea of sordid. Her leg pressed Cissa’s hand firmer into core, the blonde’s pleasure imperative to Bella’s existence. Narcissa gasped at the sensation, her fingers taking direction from the pressure.

“I couldn’t remember your name there,” Bellatrix rasped out suddenly, small and scared. She rocked against her lover, like wind and frantic air. “I knew you, and your hair, and your heart, and every one of your starts part of me, and but they took your name and left me in the dark.” Bellatrix wasn’t quite firm on which reality she frequented at the moment. In that way, the Dementors never left her. “Cissa,” Bella said, trying to keep out the prison bars. “Cissa,” she said, the woman beneath her exquisite. “Cissa,” she said, repeating the name over and over, fearing those demented creatures who’d fucked her brain into submission.

Narcissa’s face blanched at Bella’s unintended defeat and she cried out her sorrow, pained and regretting this particular soft too early in their time together. She’d forgotten that Bella was hard and invulnerable, because softness hurt sometimes. So instead Narcissa murmured fervent apologies and tears, and tore Bella back into their world, kissing her lover until the rolls became dominating once again. If Bellatrix needed control, Cissa would grant it willingly. She hadn’t meant to bring back this morbid hide and horror.

“Forgive me. Take me.” So Cissa granted, her heart wide and unsorted. Her hand, wet with her own cunt and care.

“Mine,” Bellatrix shook her head and growled against Cissa’s jaw, owning both the fault and her sister.

The blonde’s free hand was instantly re-pinned back to the headboard. There were some things they would never put to words, not further than Bella’s just did. Those lonely years which had stretched between them, a hell that warranted no revisitation. Long moments and Bellatrix spent time regrouping. Despite Cissa’s intrigue in playing alpha, Bellatrix was their protector. They both preferred it as such. Bella’s eyes found their shine again, losing their hoary abyss. And Bella’s mouth was soft and convincing on pretty Cissa, her haunted-eyed lover, promising that the lapse was not her fault. Bella’s nails dug into that pretty wrist and her kisses bruised the favoured porcelain. This was apology and claim. Gasps and fever games. This time, she rode for Cissa, in charge, her head tilted back and revelling once again. The power swap complete.

“Tell me what you need.” Cissa’s lips worshiped her cheek and both her hands followed, one shining with arousal. The dark witch bit her pulse and the blonde broke into shakes, hissing at Bella’s wet thrusts.

Black eyes pinned her, far from request.

“You.”

And then lips were harsh upon her. It was exquisite. Bella brought Cissa’s hand back to cunt, teasing her flesh with both their hands. Gaging reaction. Cissa flooded and her moans changed, no longer teased but peaking.

“Don’t you dare come yet,” Bellatrix gritted out dangerously, her eyes pleased at the progress.

“I wouldn’t d-dream of it.” Cissa trembled as Bella guided her hand, her own fingers circling entrance.

“Lies. You have dreamed,” the witch purred seriously. “Of this.”

Narcissa choked, realizing just how much of her sinful mind was known, wondering how long the witch had been aware. Their eyes locked and Bellatrix was slow, pushing one of Cissa’s fingers into blonde heat. She moaned as Cissa’s eyes fluttered with pleasure, that kernel of unfulfilled want the blonde had thought well hidden. Bellatrix kissed her, promising, but dismounted despite Narcissa’s breathy pleas. They sat now, facing. Bellatrix scootched forward, her legs slipping beneath Cissa’s. She palmed her Cissa’s face, in its confusion. But then Bella wielded the witch’s hand and the blonde all but howled at the perfect angle. Narcissa’s other hand flew to Bella’s face in purchase and need. The dark witch relished such desire from her normally reserved lover and bit the woman’s lip swollen, then kissing the sting. And then they fucked Cissa’s cunt together. Firm, slick, tight thrusts and Narcissa flushed red at her own movements, uncalculated and entirely based her lover’s whim. Bellatrix growled as the woman’s hips met them over and over again. She saw Cissa’s face and knew the stubborn witch would finally allow them her unspoken wish.

“Bellatrix, for the blelssed sake of all f-ucked things.” She drew closer to Bella, the space between them erased and smothered. Her breath drew shaky, like her limbs. Her eyes were downcast and the warrior would have none of that.

“Look at me when I fuck you.”

Cissa’s eyes snapped up and they stared at each other as Bellatrix added two of her own fingers. The vanity mirror shattered at the joint completion, but neither noticed. All the blonde could feel was full and Bellatrix moaned at the tight as they fucked her. Narcissa’d had her share of intense encounters, but there really wasn’t any proper adjective for what they were currently doing, this half a comfort, half a violent affair of the heart. Her lover’s hands steady and panicked all at once.

“I--I wouldn’t let you forget,” Cissa moaned, soothing the witch. Her words hoarse in Bella’s mouth. “You didn’t forget. Names are just words. You know me. You always have.”

Bellatrix shook her head and held the blonde tighter, a mess of mouths and sighs and breath in the bed. The headboard was hard behind Cissa’s back, the pillows so mashed for their vigor. The blonde tried again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, full and breathy, their hands working a tandem she’d not seen, other then the few times their enemies had required combined magical efforts. They both shivered at the intimacy.

“Prove it,” Bellatrix hissed, her eyes safe and baleful. “I have you now again, but you still hide. Will you make me chase your desire for the next century or do I get to come home?” Her pupils were blown and black, shoveled with the years of regret and buried bones of all this.

Her fingers sparked inside Narcissa and both of them jumped, the sensation not unpleasant but certainly not relaxing. Unintentionally, the blonde let out a loud and hearty sound, far from her normal breathy tones. Astonished, Bellatrix stalled their hands, but Narcissa’s resulting sound was bereft and Bella couldn’t have that. The decibel though, was new. It awed her and she didn’t ever want to forget it. Didn’t want to push it on the woman who was so pretty in her controlled silences and flushed desire. Bellatrix resumed motion and stared at the glorious witch, who seemed stretched in all facets. Cunt. Soul. Sound. Open to Bellatrix in a way she hadn’t allowed previously. And then Narcissa’s fingers sparked as well. The blonde witch howled, feeling full of them both. Of Bellatrix. And a building climax that wasn’t only physical. Whatever magic was creeping up on Narcissa, Bellatrix felt it too and she drove it harder. Higher. Restraining that last bit for her witch, understanding that this magic would bind them in unpredictable ways. She saw Cissa’s fear flare. That persistent burden of feeling controlled by others. The world didn’t understand that it wasn’t about whether Narcissa wanted to submit. Of course she did. It was about how. It was about choice. It didn’t work if there was no choice. Bella had always understood that.

“Darling,” the dark witch murmured support. Her kiss as rough and protective as her words. Her promise. “I wouldn’t. I won’t. Not if you don’t want this. I would never without your consent. I would never.” Narcissa was a proud creature. She wouldn’t take this from the witch, not if it meant putting out that fire. The beauty of submission wasn’t in dousing embers. It was in controlling how they burned.

Every instinct told Cissa to close her eyes. To break this spell. To revert to a lovely and normal sexual encounter with this beautiful and indelible woman. Bella’s eyes were on hers and she trembled at the sight she’d lost for so many moons. Bella’s hands telling her it would be okay either way. Her mouth all over her, promising the same. Reminding that there were be other opportunities if this wasn’t the day. But her hand found Bella’s neck and 93 prison brand, raised and braised from scar tissue. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t leave Bella that way ever again. So she wouldn’t.

“I never said I wouldn’t pay it,” Cissa gasped fitfully, “the price.” She flushed red at the scent in the room and the desperation in her voice, the wolfish look on Bella’s face, the sheer delight between her thighs.

“The price, love,” Bellatrix hissed back, curling her fingers with Cissa’s just right and so. “You need to say it.” She didn’t argue as Cissa’s hand slipped out and made for a swollen bud instead. The dark witch hissed at the sight, her prim lover rubbing herself slick, wanton at Bella’s hands inside.

“Another,” the blonde ignored her and hissed, Bella obliging a third finger easily.

“Tell me, Cissy.” Bellatrix moaned, their foreheads tipped together.

Cissa’s circle assistance changed how the blonde’s muscles clamped, how she rode. How she arched for Bella and drove. Her pulse raced and they didn’t jump this time when something else crashed down in the room, likely window this time, for Cissa could smell midnight on their magic. Narcissa needed to breathe, her lungs erratic, so their kisses were sporadic, more just hovering over lips and rites.

“Tell me,” Bella repeated, unworried about the bedroom shambling around them, caring only for blues eyes and Cissa so wet and tight.

“What wouldn’t I pay you,” Narcissa wambled aloud, cracking a whisper so furious and stalwart. “Have you no sense at all? I’ve never paid anyone else a damn thing in my life. Just you. You’re burned in me.” She moaned, kissing Bellatrix like bank and time and every compiled interest she’d denied her heart.

Bella’s soul widened at such fealty, feeling their magic start some vow, some twine that couldn’t be unwound. Goddess, she felt it rise in her spine, her core wet with magic and Cissa’s pulsing depths. She would feel humbled later, for such a gift. For now, she was content to fuck the witch to bliss.

Narcissa felt the pinnacle rise, good and firmly approaching. And maybe it would be prim, proper, and likely quiet. But wild nonetheless. Their magic was rising, the shattered vanity from before only the first of casualties. The wax candles on the bureau had lost their shape, melted by the heat. They bled over the drawers and onto the floor, pooling and writhing like the women on the bed. Miraculously, the wooden bed itself seemed stolid in the fray. But then again, plant material did better with magic than most things. She knew the doorknob would have melted flesh, should any foolish intruder interrupt their marriage bed.

“Come home,” Bellatrix commanded, notes of plea there, however faint.

They couldn’t contain it much longer, so strong was Bella’s hold over her. Their hold over each other, truly. Narcissa gazed into dark eyes and saw the only truth that ever mattered. It might be her submission, but goddess it was Bella’s most desperate yen. The lieutenant’s magic pulsed around them, begging in a way neither Bella’s speech nor dark eyes ever would.

Trusting Bella’s ability to dominate, Narcissa gave herself over, made her offering. The spark of victory lit Bella’s eyes the moment she did. And immediately Bella’s angle changed slightly, Cissa’s breath stolen out from lungs. The orgasm crashed into her, a flashover that fired her magic aflame. And she came, home and trembled in Bella’s frame, her breaths and quakes quiet, no sound needed. As the orgasm ebbed, the magic did not. Bella pulled at it, testing her claim now soulbound and staked. It seared another climax over them both, rendering Cissa deaf and blind for long and white time.

Returning to herself was warm. Sluggish and so very safe. Narcissa needn’t open her eyes to know the presence that wrapped protectively around her. Yes in the bed, but now it lodged in her magic itself, bound there indefinitely without threat of leave. She felt no fingers in her, and yet it was no less intimate, Bellatrix now profoundly etched onto soul in an entirely new and permanent fashion. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, the sensation. Bella, like a slow burn in her gut that wouldn’t ever go away. In spite of the discomfort, Cissa was quite relieved, hoped and certain that it wouldn’t lessen over time.

Not to mention the blonde wasn’t really interested in what surely was the smug look on the death eater’s face. Though she doubted that Bellatrix would have predicted yesterday to be their soul-fucking catalyst. They both knew it had lingered somewhere on the horizon, an inevitable end to the endless circling. And yet, in the morning they were so gently and domestically intertwined. Narcissa breathed in the changes. Stretching, the sheets were cool on her body, the body next to her anything but. The scent of sex and wax and morning roused her nose and she sighed with a strangled chuckle. Her meandering thoughts were interrupted by an indelicate mouth on her neck.

“Can you believe, sister,” Bellatrix hissed between nips, “that for all my effort there is not a single new magical mark on either of our bodies. And I checked. Thoroughly, while you slept on.”

Narcissa opened her eyes, if only to roll them at the attractive witch sprawled next to her.

“I imagine you’ll live through it, Bella.”

“Oh without a doubt. We both know I’ve lived through worse.” She allowed the blonde to contemplate her words. “Though I’m positive I can think of a solution that keeps you adequately marked.”

Her hand caressed Cissa’s face so reverently, that a puddle of wax on the floor lit, its wick miraculously resolidified and upright.


End file.
